


Forgiving The Fallen

by The_Wolf_Inside



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All the Weasleys are Good, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, George Weasley is a Good Friend, Guilty Harry Potter, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Harry Potter is Not Okay, Harry Suffers in Silence, Harry is Hurting, Hurt Harry Potter, Hurt Weasleys too but they're dealing with it better, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Past Violence, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, harry is repressed, past trauma, undoubtedly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24674290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wolf_Inside/pseuds/The_Wolf_Inside
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts is won, Harry stays with the Weasleys but he is far from alright. Harry feels like he is trapped in a sink hole that is slowly dragging him down and no one can help. Even though he is surrounded by the closest thing he has to a family. Will anyone notice? Will the Weasleys be able to help him in time? Who is the one that knows?
Relationships: Harry Potter & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter & Weasley Family, Harry Potter/Weasley Family
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first chapter of how Harry is living at the Burrow.  
> I feel like this is what happened right after the Battle because of course that is where Harry would go until he gets his bearings back.

Everyone was telling him he needed his sleep. It's not like he didn’t know that, but they didn’t see blinding flashes of red and green light or hear deafening screams whenever they closed their eyes. So he preferred to stay awake whenever possible. When the exhaustion finally caught up to him, he would drift off into a fitful sleep and get a few hours at most. He knew that he needed rest…he really did. He actually wanted to sleep undisturbed for about three days, but the nightmares simply wouldn’t allow it. He would never tell them that, though. And it wasn't like the Weasleys weren’t already aware anyway…

  
Giving up on getting any more hours in, he slowly sat up and began to make his way downstairs. He skipped the creaky steps, not wanting to wake anyone else knowing that they were all still deep asleep. Finally reaching the bottom, he looked around the empty living room and sat down heavily on the beat up sofa. Sighing quietly, he took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes tiredly. The dim light of dawn gave everything a soft sort of light and he felt brief wonder at the sight. It was all dashed away in the next second however.

  
“Morning,” a heavy voice greeted him from behind, nearly making him jump out of his skin. He whipped around in his seat to look at a blurry figure leaning against the wall behind him and he realized his glasses were still off. Quickly shoving them back onto his face, a messy bed head of red hair came into focus. It only took him a split second to realize it was a haggard-looking George standing there, regarding him with dark circles under his eyes.

  
“Couldn't sleep either, eh?” The older boy asked, looking at him empathetically. Harry tried to calm his racing heart as he felt nervousness start to spring up in his chest. He swallowed anxiously and shook his head shortly. He had no idea that anyone else was awake at this hour and was quickly regretting his decision to get out of bed.  
“Sorry I…I thought everyone was still…” he trailed off as he gestured vaguely at the direction of the staircase. George pushed off from the wall and made his way around to sit next to Harry on the worn out sofa with a groan.

  
“Don't worry,” George said with a small sideways smile aimed at him, “It's just me...” Harry felt himself tense slightly as he sat down so close to him. He felt an itch creep up his arm where their shoulders were nearly brushing and he felt the sudden need to get out of there as quickly as possible.

  
“Err…I – I think I'll just...” Harry stood urgently, straightening his clothes and making his way back toward the stairs. He heard George scramble up from his spot and rush up to him, blocking the way back up.

  
“Hang on,” He spoke gently, concern painting his features, “You all right?” Harry kept his gaze trained on the floor, not wanting to meet the other boy's gaze. He felt like he was being backed into a corner and he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to talk about the particularly terrible dream that caused his early trek downstairs, but another part of him desperately wanted to simply leave this room immediately.

  
“Harry,” George prompted as he reached out and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. He could feel George looking at him searchingly and he had to fight the urge to shake his hand off. He couldn't get his voice to work no matter how hard he tried and he didn't trust it to be steady anyway.

  
“ _Harry_ ,” George spoke again, his level of concern rising rapidly, “What is it? What's the matter?” Harry was finally able to bring his eyes up to look at the worried gaze of the other boy and found that he couldn't hold it for very long without risking the exposure of his true feelings. He shook his head and carefully shrugged George's hand away.

  
“N-Nothing, I'm fine…” he spoke, his voice slightly hoarse, “I'm just…tired.” George appeared to deem that as a good enough explanation, for he nodded sympathetically, gave a quiet “Okay” and stood aside. He gave Harry a tired, tiny smirk as he passed by gratefully, hoping that he wasn’t being too rude. George simply wouldn’t understand if he were to attempt to explain...no one would. It would be best if he dealt with it on his own and didn’t drag anybody else down with him. He really was grateful that the Weasleys were kind enough to let him stay at the Burrow, but as he climbed the stairs he found himself simply wanting to be alone. He was passing by the bathroom and, before he could think about it, he doubled back at shut himself in.

  
The restroom was quickly becoming his favourite room in the house because it was where he could go and lock himself in and nobody would disturb him for however long he was inside. It was a great escape for whenever he needed a break from all the _“Harry, you alright?” “You look a bit pale, dear.” “What is it, mate?” “You need some fresh air, son.”_ He knew they all meant well, but sometimes he just felt like he was being pulled from every direction and he couldn’t even tell which way was up.

  
He knew that things were never going to be the same, but he could have tried harder. He was so angry with all the sacrifice that had to go into winning the stupid war. But then…it really didn’t feel like he had won. Not with so many people that he could have saved. So he sat himself in the bathtub and enjoyed the alone time while he could, because he definitely couldn't let himself be thinking all of this when everyone else was awake. He had a difficult enough time around them as it is and he didn’t want to make it even harder on himself.

  
He stared at the porcelain surrounding him and wondered what he would say to George when he saw him again. He really wished he didn't have to come face to face with him as often as he did, because every time he laid eyes on him he felt a stab of guilt in his chest. He heaved out a sigh and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses once more, feeling as if he were constantly viewing the world through a thin fog. Relaxing himself, he let his head fall back to rest on the wall of the tub and only just realized the absurdity of his position. He felt a small breath of a laugh escape his lips when he considered just how odd he must look in this moment. He closed his eyes and tried to remember easier times…though it was quite difficult. He must have stayed there for longer than he realized because, for the second time that morning, he was startled by a sudden voice ringing out in the silence.

  
“Harry?” it called through the door, “You in there?” Harry scrambled out of the tub, knowing he'd be absolutely mortified if someone found him apparently lounging about in the restroom. He struggled to find his voice for a few moments.

  
“Err, y – yeah, yeah it's me,” He spoke a bit shakily, hoping he didn’t sound too suspicious. He heard some shuffling just on the other side of the door and had a brief moment of panic at the thought that they might break it down.

  
“You alright?” The voice came again and this time he recognized it as Mr. Weasley's. Harry looked around the room as if to find an escape besides the door. He nervously ran a hand through his hair while responding, wondering how he was going to explain himself.

  
“Yeah, fine,” he willed his voice to be steady. Deciding that there was no way out, he rested his hand upon the doorknob for a second while he braced himself and opened the door slowly. A mildly concerned Mr. Weasley came into view, hair a bit unkempt, still in pyjamas, eyes looking at him searchingly. Harry felt his heart stutter and his chest constrict at meeting the man's gaze.

  
“Can't sleep?” He inquired gently, his gaze a little too knowing for Harry's liking. He shifted his weight anxiously, glancing down for a moment before responding.  
“No, I'm fine I – I was just about to head back up, actually,” He said, hoping that it was much too early in the morning for Mr. Weasley to start piling on the questions. The man himself merely gave Harry a small smile in response and nodded at him.

  
“Well, alright. Up you go, then,” He said, giving a sideways nod to the stairs that lead up to the room that Ron was letting Harry share. Harry gave a quick nod of thanks to the older man as he sidled by. He trudged up the remaining flights of stairs, automatically skipping the creaky steps, just wising that he could somehow find a way to put an end to the swirling ball of emotion that continued to grow and tense in his chest. When he finally reached Ron's room, he paused for a minute just waiting outside the door before he had to go and suffer one of two options: lie there sleeplessly while he waited for everyone else to wake up, or slip into a fitful sleep where he was plagued by nightmares until he woke up feeling worse than he had before.

  
Letting his head fall forward, he rested his forehead against the door frame with a tiny sigh. He thought that time would help him forget but the more time that passed, the worse he seemed to feel. He felt as if he were slowly sinking, but it was so gradual that only he could notice while everyone else seemed oblivious. At last he gathered the nerve to open the door and slowly inched his way into the small room, not wanting to wake his slumbering friend.  
Though, of course, because it was Ron, Harry probably could've entered in a full on sprint and done a double front flip into his bed without disturbing Ron in the slightest. As he settled himself into the spare bed he glanced at his friend once more, taking in his sprawled limbs, messy red hair, and slightly open mouth. Harry smirked at the sight briefly before lying down on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Perhaps they were all right…perhaps all he really did need was sleep. If only that could fix everything…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people Harry was hearing in his head were George, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Mr. Weasley in case anyone was wondering.


	2. Chapter 2

He was running. Running, shouting, and desperately trying to escape from something. Or someone… He could hear the bone chilling laughter of someone most definitely evil gaining on him from behind and he felt the very breath leave his body as his skin began to crawl. Gasping for air, he rounded a corner and then heard a familiar voice coming from the end of the long, stretching hallway that he found himself in.

“Harry!” the voice called him, and he knew he had to get to them in time or something terrible would happen. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the utter fright of not being able to save whoever was calling for him.

“Harry!” the voice came again, causing him to run harder because no matter how fast he went the end of the hall didn’t seem to get any nearer. _“Harry!”_ He felt his desperation peak at the sound of their voice coming again but this time sounding as if it were tearing through their throat with pain. Harry could feel his lungs protesting at him as he ran with all of his might, but the hall seemed to grow with every step he took. Feeling fire burning in his throat he wanted to scream in frustration.

“I'm sorry!” he gasped out to them, starting violently as he felt a hand on his shoulder and his surroundings became blurry. He still felt panic coursing through his veins as he instinctively flinched out of reach. Glasses were gently pressed onto his face and everything came into focus.

“Harry,” Ron said to him, as he stood over his bed, watching him with concern, “You were having a nightmare.” Harry merely stared up at his best friend, his breath coming in pants, eyes wide, still feeling slightly detached, now able to place who the voice in his dream belonged to. Relief flooded Harry when it finally registered that Ron wasn't in danger and he shakily scrambled to his feet and pulled Ron into a breathless embrace. He heard Ron's surprised little “ _Oh_ ,” and feared that he had overstepped, but then Ron hugged him back and he relaxed. After a moment, he pulled back and held Ron at arm’s length by the shoulders as he simply looked at him.

“You're alright,” Harry spoke, his voice hoarse and trembling slightly. Ron gave him a confused little smile as he nodded at him slowly.

“Yeah. Course I'm alright,” Ron responded gently, his tone reassuring, “Are _you_?” At this, Harry dropped his hands from his friend's shoulders and broke his gaze as he began to look around for his wand and his shoes.

“You…you said you were sorry,” Ron said while he watching as Harry was looking about a bit frantically, but then froze in his crouched position at his words, “What were you dreaming about?”

Harry tensed as he realized he had spoken that bit of his dream aloud. He really didn't want to tell Ron that he had dreamt of him about to be killed and that Harry couldn't save him. What kind of best friend would that make him? He hurriedly found his shoes hiding in the farthest corner under the bed and pulled them on after a quick dusting.

“Umm…have you seen my wand?” Harry asked quietly as he continued to avert his gaze, beginning to feel a bit embarrassed for his behaviour. He turned the sheets around hoping to find the object within their folds, but with no luck. Ron regarded him silently, sensing that Harry didn't want to talk about it and allowed the change of subject.

“Er, yeah, when I got up I saw it on the floor so I put it in the drawer. Y'know, so nothing would happen to it,” He said, indicating the small desk drawer that was wedged between their beds. Harry rushed over to it and opened the top drawer to see his wand nestled safely among the socks. He breathed out a small sigh of relief and took it out to store in his pocket.

“Thanks,” he muttered gratefully at Ron, who nodded at him silently. They merely stood there in silence for a moment, Harry wondering if he should tell Ron about his dream or at least offer some sort of explanation for his sudden hug, Ron feeling unsure if he should continue to probe or if he should just drop it for now.

“Well,” Ron spoke, shattering the silence, “Mum says breakfast is ready. We should head down there before all the blueberry scones are gone.” Harry huffed out a breath in amusement at Ron's constant eye for food.

“Okay,” he agreed, and they began the trek downstairs together. They could hear everyone else conversing down below and Harry could feel his lightheartedness ebb away at the prospect of facing them all. He swallowed down the nervousness he felt well up in his throat, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as they continued downward. Once they reached the bottom, Harry saw the flurry of red hair before them and the way they all paused to look at him, he knew this was most likely going to become a Question Harry breakfast. Swallowing anxiously, they stood still for a moment as they merely looked back and Harry was, once again, grateful for Ron as he broke the silence.

“What's for breakfast?” he asked in a casual tone, most likely hoping to urge the others to act the same. His question seemed to break the spell and they all began to move about and speak once more.

“Your favourite,” Mrs. Weasley responded with a smile at her youngest son. Ron pumped his fist up into the air in a gesture of victory. Harry tried his best to look excited so no one would ask him if everything was all right. Mrs. Weasley ushered him into the kitchen with her, causing him to feel a bit of separation anxiety from being taken away from Ron and to wonder what she wanted him alone for. She took him to the cabinets and handed him a pile of plates and forks.

“Here,” she said as she placed them in his hands, “Will you set the places for everyone, dear?” She regarded him with a smile and Harry felt the tightness in his chest ease up when he realized she only wanted him to help.

“Yeah, of course,” he responded in a quiet voice. She nodded her thanks at him and raised a hand to pat at his messy hair. He had to fight to stay put and not move away from her touch, knowing she would take it the wrong way.

“Alright, then just bring back any extra plates if they're left over. Ron sometimes wants _two_.” They shared an amused look at her last comment before he gave her a tired smirk and nodded as he went to go set up the table. As he put down a few plates, he heard footsteps approach behind him and he felt his shoulder's tense instinctively.

“Harry,” he heard the firm voice of Mr. Weasley, “Get back to sleep alright?” Harry turned and saw the way the older man was looking at him and he found that he couldn't speak him. He could feel the ever familiar guilt starting to rise in his throat. He tried to speak but spluttered and coughed, causing Mr. Weasley to pat him on the back a few times. Once he regained his ability to talk, he glanced at the man in front of him for a second before turning away to continue his task.

“Er…yeah, fine.” He spoke, barely suppressing a stutter, trying to sound casual as he set the rest of the plates down. He sensed that Mr. Weasley wanted to talk further but the rest of the family began to file in so he merely gave Harry a smile as he took his seat. George gave him a clap on the shoulder as he passed by and took his seat next to Ron. Harry started, nearly dropped the remaining plates he was holding and looked up in fright to see George give him a small wink of apparent apology for startling him.

The Burrow was feeling especially cramped because both Bill and Charlie had come to stay at home for a while, most likely relishing the feeling of being able to be with their family without the worry of the most powerful dark wizard on the loose hanging over their heads. But for Harry, all their visiting caused was more anxiety and guilt to be added to the terrible mix of emotions that were swirling within him.

Bill passed by Harry with a smirk, ever Mr. Cool, as he went to find a seat so they could begin breakfast. Harry was nearly finished setting all the places and was trying to finish as quick as he could before everyone was already seated and merely waiting on him. He hurriedly set the remaining places that were needed, but then Harry's heart stuttered as he stared at the plate that he had just put down. He felt emotion rise up in his throat and this time he couldn't stuff it back down, his eyes began to burn of their own accord. He clenched his fists, screwed his eyes shut tight, and took in a shaky breath as he attempted to contain himself. He could feel everyone's eyes burning holes into his back and he knew he had to get out of there before something really bad happened.

“Er, sorry – I – I'm just not very hungry,” he choked out as he quickly snatched up the plate he had just set down and put it back in the pile, feeling his hands shaking uncontrollably. He walked as fast as he could without running to put the plates back in their place and quickly exited the house to be alone before anyone could say a word to him. The Weasleys were left feeling incredibly confused, all looking at each other at a loss. They all began speaking quietly, wondering what had just happened and Mrs. Weasley immediately moved to get up and go after Harry but was quickly stopped by Ron.

“Mum,” he said hurriedly, shaking his head at her, “You should probably just…” He made a gesture to imply that Harry should be left alone. She gave him a concerned look as she looked at the direction that Harry had left.

“What happened? Is he alright, Ron?” She immediately began to question her son, knowing that he was by far the closest to Harry. Ron seemed as if he were about to dismiss it and say once more that Harry just needed to be by himself but was cut off by his father.

“He _has_ seemed a bit…distant,” Mr. Weasley spoke thoughtfully, looking at the table with a faraway look in his eyes. Everyone's eyes were on Ron at this point, waiting for an explanation on Harry's behaviour. Upon hearing his father's words, Ron shifted a bit uncomfortably looking as if he were debating on something.

“Well,” he began quietly, gazing at his plate for he didn't want to meet anyone's gaze as he said this, “I…I wasn't going to mention it… But I woke him from a nightmare.” Everyone reacted to this new information, but Ron continued. “And when he came to…he got up and hugged me. Like he was relieved or something… I tried asking him about the dream, but he didn't want to talk about it. He's probably just still upset over whatever it was.” He ended with a shrug, looking up at the shocked looks on his parents faces, instantly regretting divulging this information for he knew that he had most likely just made it worse for Harry.

“Have his nightmares been this bad all this time?” Mrs. Weasley continued to question her son; breakfast long forgotten as Harry's well-being was much more important to all of them. At Ron's silent nod, they all began to question him further trying figure out the best way to help Harry. Everyone had something new to ask about what had been happening with him, but no one noticed that George was the only one to remain silent as he stared detachedly at the place where Harry had just been standing. And no one else had noticed what George himself had noticed. That Harry had automatically set one extra place than was needed…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry…   
> Did anyone else figure out what George did? Please review and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

George had managed to slip away undetected while everyone was preoccupied with what seemed to have become the interrogation of his younger brother. He had discretely muttered in Ron's ear telling him to make sure that he kept the rest of the family occupied and received a minute nod in response. Knowing that he and Ron seemed to be on the same page, he quietly went out the back door and took a minute to look around for any signs that could possibly indicate where Harry had got off to. Feeling his heart rate pick up in concern when he saw nothing, he set off in a random direction hoping that Harry hadn't gone too far and that he would actually be welcome when he found him. 

He got a sinking feeling in is stomach every time Harry wouldn't meet his gaze and mutter a short response whenever he attempted to speak to him. He attempted to convince himself that he was only imagining it, but the feeling only got worse when it seemed that Harry would purposefully avoid him at times. He had no idea what he had done wrong, but perhaps he could begin to fix it if he could help Harry with whatever had just happened. He only hoped that no one else came out in search of him as well because he knew that Harry wasn't exactly one for audiences and wouldn't be too keen on explaining himself if everyone was there. His eyebrows furrowing, George paused as he looked around their yard wondering where Harry could have gotten to so quickly.

He didn't put it past Harry to venture out into the trees that surrounded their house and garden, forming a sort of miniature forest around the property. George was beginning to wonder if he should go and ask someone else for help in searching the thicket of trees when he saw a flicker of movement in the shed on the far end of the yard. He hesitated for just a moment before heading off in that direction at a brisk pace, really hoping that he wasn't blindly walking into some sort of danger. His fingers automatically wound around his wand that he kept in his pocket as he approached the small, rickety shed. He slowly peeked around the door, fully prepared to fire off a warning spell if it was an intruder. He only saw all of the Muggle things his father had obsessively collected over the years and started to believe that he had only imagined to movement he had spotted earlier. He turned away to set off for the trees but stopped in his tracks when he heard a rustling from within the shed.

Quietly creeping back to the doorway, he peered around the corner once more and then saw what he had missed the first time: a huddled form, leaning against one of the shelves in the far end of the room. Swallowing, suddenly feeling anxious for he really didn't know what he had been planning on doing once he found the kid, he slowly made his way into the dusty, old shed. He felt tingling in his chest as he approached the crouched form, wondering if his presence would be welcomed or not. He hesitated for a split second, still afraid that Harry was angry at him, before steeling his nerves and speaking quietly.

“Hey,” he said gently, failing at not startling the boy for he watched him jump about a mile into the air. Harry stood and whipped around, looking at him with slightly widened eyes as George held his hands up in a calming gesture. “Just came to talk.”

Harry seemed to be trembling and fighting to control his breath as he turned slightly away from George, as if embarrassed. He shook his head shortly, keeping his gaze lowered as George slowly came closer, concern on his face.

“'M fine,” Harry said in a croaky voice that showed he was anything but. His eyes flicked up at him nervously, watching as the red head approached cautiously.

“Then why are you out here?” George asked honestly, tilting his head in question, simply wanting to understand. He watched Harry tense as he seemed to realize he didn’t have a proper explanation for that, and he stepped a bit closer to him.

“Harry,” he spoke quietly, feeling his throat tighten a bit, “It's alright. I _saw_ …” Harry's eyes snapped up to meet his once the words had passed his lips. Harry had brought a hand up to press against his chest and began to shake his head tightly.

“I don’t know what – I –” Harry's voice came out sounding tight and forced as he shut his eyes and shook his head, clearly unable to get a full sentence out. “I – I just wanted some…air, I –” He broke off with a choked noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan, his hand now pressing on his chest with full force. George's concern was rising rapidly as he watched Harry double over slightly, his eyes now screwed tightly shut.

“Harry?” he inquired, coming forward quickly, grasping him by the shoulders. Harry jumped and jerked out of his reach, his breath now coming in quick gasps as he looked at George with definite fear in his eyes.

“What's the matter?!” he asked, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice. Harry attempted to speak, but it appeared to be futile for he merely shook his head in silent defeat. He gasped once more, still clutching at his chest as he sunk to the floor. Now properly frightened, George knelt in front of Harry as he watched him with widened eyes.

“Harry!” he could barely recognize his own voice, “D – d'you want me to go get Ron or –?” But he was cut off by Harry's vehement head shaking and choked out “No!” George was feeling utterly shaken at the sight of Harry slumped on the floor with an apparent inability to catch his breath.

“What's wrong, Harry?!” he asked, hearing the franticness in his tone, as he came closer to him. Harry attempted to explain once more, but his voice seemed to have left him for the time being. He shook his head helplessly as George watched his eyes gloss over slightly while his breath only sped up.

“O – Okay, Harry, listen,” George tried to speak slowly and calmly, despite the utter alarm he was feeling at the moment, “I think you’re having some sort of err…panic fit.” This knowledge did little to soothe Harry's panic. George let out a small sigh, knowing he should've realized that would be of little help in the situation. Harry's breathing was getting more erratic with each passing second and George knew he had to do something before Harry fainted.

“Um…okay, it – it's alright, Harry,” George began to simply say whatever he deemed calming as he held Harry steady by the shoulders, “Everything's gonna be alright.” It seemed, however, that Harry believed the complete opposite for he shook his head violently and suddenly clutched at George's arm.

“N – I c-can't breathe!” Harry wheezed, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of George's forearm. The older boy felt his panic shoot up at the manner in which Harry's voice came out sounding strangled and frantic, so unlike what it was at any other time. He racked his brain for any sort of spell or charm that could restore the ability to breathe but came up with nothing in the heat of moment.

“Oh, _Merlin_ …o-okay, Harry, just hang on all right?” George stammered as he began to rise from his crouched position, “I'm gonna go get Mum, okay?” He knew he had to go and get help for whatever this was because he clearly had no idea what to do to help Harry. Apparently, that was the wrong course of action, though, because Harry's hand flew from George's arm to his collar, grasping blindly as he shook his head wildly. George was nearly pulled off balance at the sudden pull, gasping in shock and fright that he would tumble on top of Harry.

“Wh – _Harry_. You _need_ help and I don’t know what to do!” he spoke, attempting to get Harry to see reason, but knowing his judgment was most likely impaired at this moment. Harry seemed to be quite clear on that subject, however, for he shook his head vehemently giving him a pleading look, tears of panic beginning to well up in his eyes. George was beginning to feel helpless, for he couldn't go get help and he didn't know what to do to help Harry from this gripping panic.

“Then what do you need, Harry? How can I help?!” he asked, desperate to get some sort of decipherable answer from the younger boy. Harry's chest heaved greatly as he merely grasped at the fabric of George's shirt, holding it as if it were his lifeline.

“M… Don't know!” Harry gasped, every sound he uttered seeming to be a great feat, “My – _heart_!” And that's when George realized how Harry had been clutching at his chest since he had first arrived at the shed. He wasn't sure if he was crossing boundaries, but he figured that Harry wasn't going to mind as much as he usually would so George slowly reached out and placed his hand over his chest. Harry stilled and George feared he was going to react violently, but he merely looked back at him with wildly panicking eyes. George focused on the feeling beneath Harry's thin, heaving chest and felt his heart jackhammering erratically. He sighed quietly to himself… _It's no wonder why he's panicking so much. His heart must feel like it's about to explode._ George thought as he shook his head slowly, wondering what in the hell he could possibly do to help and why exactly Harry didn't want anyone else to come help.

“Um, okay I think what you need to focus on right now is just try to control your breathing, alright?” he spoke gently, trying not to wince because Harry had now shifted his death grip from George's shirt to his arm once more. It took several moments for his words to process in Harry's addled mind, but he finally gave a tiny nod as he continued to gasp and struggle. George felt terrible as he merely sat on and watched as Harry suffered in his own body. Many minutes passed by and Harry didn't appear to be getting any better, if anything he seemed to be slipping further and further into his hysteria. George was now getting desperate and was honestly considering just sending his Patronus over to the house to ask for his mother, no matter how much Harry protested.

“ _Harry_. Please tell me what you need,” he spoke carefully, wishing Harry could communicate what would help him. Harry started to look painfully resigned as he gasped continually and let his head fall forward, unintentionally resting it on George's chest.

“Don't… _know_ ,” Harry managed to choke out, but George had froze when he felt Harry's forehead come into contact with his sternum. He realized Harry was too out of it to realize George was slightly uneasy because of this so he was prepared to simply allow it when he suddenly got an idea.

“Alright, Harry,” he spoke gently, holding him by the arms, “I'm gonna turn you around, okay?” He thought it best to not ask Harry for permission, otherwise he would simply be shut down and they would remain this way forever. George knew that couldn't be the case for he was honestly fearing for Harry's health for if he carried on in this distress for an extended period of time, there could be drastic consequences. When he began to turn Harry around, he tensed at first but quickly became pliant as he appeared to also be desperate for this to stop. George carefully rested Harry's back against his chest and held him steady by the top of his arms.

“Okay, now I want you to just _feel_ my breaths alright?” he said, trying to sound confident that this would help in any way because he was honestly just making it up as he went along. “Once you can focus on them, I want you to try and match them okay?” He had never done anything like this before so he hoped it sounded credible. Apparently it did, for Harry nodded shakily. George was glad that he was actually doing something in an effort to help this kid who had done so much for him and his family, instead of sitting by and watching him suffer. He hated seeing Harry like this when he knew how much he had done for the whole world and how little he was truly appreciated for it. He felt that Harry carried much more guilt than he needed to. George wished he could take it all from him just so he could experience being a normal boy with no worries whatsoever.

“I'm so sorry, Harry,” he whispered quietly as he took deep measured breaths for Harry to attempt to match, “I wish…I could do something.” Harry seemed to struggle against him as if he wanted to say something but was too preoccupied with attempting to catch his ever-elusive breath. He felt chagrin for speaking his thoughts aloud when Harry couldn't respond, merely focusing on keeping his breath steady for his sake. After what seemed like years of hyperventilating and death grips on George's arms, Harry's breath finally seemed to come a bit easier. His entire body seemed to ease from the taut way in which it was seized and he relaxed a bit against George, heaving in great breaths into his oxygen deprived lungs.

“There you go…” George said gently, “That's it. Nice and easy…slow, deep breaths, Harry.” He reminded him, not wanting to make this progress and then have Harry faint from getting _too_ much oxygen all at once. Harry was still holding on to George as if he were his one and only tie to the Earth and if he let go for even a second, he'd slip off into oblivion. Finally, after a few minutes, Harry seemed to regain the ability to take in a proper, full breath and calmed considerably. He was still breathing quite hard when he slumped back against George, all the tenseness he carried only moments before was now nowhere to be seen.

“Hey?” George inquired carefully, “Alright?” He tried peering around the messy mop of jet black hair to see Harry's face, but he didn't move to look up. It took Harry a long moment to respond, in which George felt literal pain while waiting anxiously. He felt friction against his shoulder and realized Harry was nodding tightly, still breathing as if he was coming down from the exertion of a run. George felt immense relief flood through his whole system when Harry was no longer on the verge of heart failure or complete loss of consciousness.

He breathed out a soft sigh of relief, making Harry's hair flutter a bit and he then began to wonder how long they had been out there for. And how long would Harry need or want to stay like this until he began to grow uncomfortable or embarrassed? George simply pushed those thoughts away and let the both of them be for the moment. Though, as if Harry had somehow sensed his thoughts and wanted to give him a nonverbal answer, he slowly turned until he was leaning sideways against him with his eyes closed and his head resting in the crook of George's neck. The red head had to stop himself from tensing instinctively, reminding himself that Harry had just been through something very taxing and exhausting and was most likely simply relieved that he had made it through. He very carefully brought his arms up and held Harry loosely, just in case he changed his mind and didn't like their new position.

But the Boy Who Lived seemed quite alright with it, for he said nothing and merely continued to take in those wonderful breaths that everyone always took for granted. George himself was content with whatever Harry wanted, simply relieved that he was better now. He wondered if what he had seen was the cause of this whole episode in the first place… But was this really the best time to bring it up? _What the hell?_ He thought, knowing that if he didn't say anything now, he would never work up the nerve to do so again.

“Harry…” he began in a voice just above a whisper, “I _think_ I know what upset you…back at the table. I don’t think anyone else did, but…I _saw_. And if this is because of what happened…then I want you to know that…it's _okay_. It's alright, Harry.” He waited tensely for a few moments, wondering how the teen would react to his words or if he would even react at all. Harry said nothing. After a minute or so, he glanced down and realized that the poor boy had fallen asleep against his chest and his heart melted even further for Harry James Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of Harry and George in this chapter?   
> Let me know your thoughts on everything so far. Those are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

“George, _swear_ to me that you didn't put one of your spells on him!” Ron muttered fiercely, staring at his older brother before glancing back at the prone form of his best friend that was currently lying on the spare bed his mother had conjured for him. He had quite a time keeping everyone distracted while George was off doing who-knew-what that took him so bleeding long.

After a while, the rest of the family actually listened to Ron for once and decided to let Harry be for the time being. Breakfast carried a tenseness as they continued on as usual, everyone pretending that they didn't notice their mum resisting the urge to go and grab Harry herself. Once it was over, Ron waited anxiously as he paced around the living room until the back door finally opened softly. He had turned to witness his older brother carrying his best friend, bridal style. Ron was, of course, floored by the sight but they had managed to make it upstairs without anyone seeing as Ron acted as lookout, only immediately helping without question because he knew Harry would've hated for anyone else to witness him that way.

“What?! Of course not! Why would I do that?” George responded, feeling a rush of indignance at Ron's question. His younger brother merely raised his eyebrows at him pointedly. George sighed exasperatedly and gave a small eye roll.

“Alright, well…not _this_ time!” He said, turning away from Ron to look at Harry's sleeping form. Ron paced in front of his brother, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“Then what the hell is wrong with him?” Ron asked in a fierce whisper, “Why is he unconscious?! What happened?” George hurriedly shushed him, took him by the shoulder, and ushered him away from Harry's bedside. Ron tensed but allowed himself to be steered away and into the corner of his room while George pulled out his wand. He watched as he waved it above and around Harry's sleeping form, recognizing the movements for a silencing spell. Once it was cast and he ensured that they wouldn't disturb the sleeping boy, he finally turned and spoke quietly to the floor beneath Ron's feet.

“He's just… _exhausted_ , Ron.” George began carefully, looking up at his brother gauging his reaction, wondering how much he should tell and how Harry would feel about it. Ron merely gaped at him silently for a moment before shaking his head at his George a bit disbelievingly.

“And – _that's_ why he's out cold and won't wake up when we’re talking in his ear?!” Ron asked in a rush, looking frustrated, “I want to know what happened, George!” And for the first time in his life, Ron saw his older brother hesitant to reveal something to him. At any other time, George would be eager to spew the details on anything to him simply for the sake of stirring up trouble, but now he shuffled uncertainly from foot to foot as he looked at anything except Ron.

“ _George_ ,” Ron said, feeling a bit of fright worm it's way into his stomach at the sight of his brother so uneasy. George ran a hand through his hair as he sank down heavily onto Ron's bed, eyes shut as he sighed out a breath. Ron watched him with furrowed brows and slowly came forward to sit next to him carefully. He waited, feeling disconcerted because he never had any reason to tiptoe around George before and he wondered what possibly could have occurred to cause the need for it now.

“Well…” George began quietly, rubbing his hands together anxiously, “Err…I thought I could help. Just me, you know? Cause I knew he wouldn't be too happy if the whole family came trotting out to get him. So, I ended up finding him in the shed… And he was just –” He paused as he seemed to be recalling the incident vividly, “He was…in an odd state, Ron. I've never seen him like that. It was like he was – _stuck_. Panicking. Couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn’t do _anything_ to tell me what I could do to help him out of it.” Ron felt shock roll through him, as all of George's words set in he turned to look at the subject of conversation currently lying motionless a few feet away from them. He was about to ask a question when George gave a small scoff with a minute smirk.

“I'll tell you what he _was_ capable of, though. His ability to express how much he didn't want me to get you or Mum or anyone else,” he spoke with a mixture of amusement and sadness, “In fact, it seemed like he didn't even want _me_ there. Until he started properly panicking, and after that, he wouldn't let go of me.” Ron couldn't believe that Harry would want to go through that alone and simply let himself _feel_ all that with absolutely no aid. He shook his head disbelievingly, but when he glanced over at Harry he realized he actually wasn't that surprised after all because that was so utterly Harry that he felt a bit stupid for believing he would ever want it any other way. George was beginning to speak again but Ron shushed him quickly, feeling his eyebrows knit together in concern as he looked at his best friend.

“What?” George asked confusedly, turning to follow Ron's gaze, then noticing the tensing of Harry's arms and how his breath seemed a bit laboured. Ron immediately stood and started heading toward the other bed with purpose.

“He's having a nightmare,” Ron muttered, looking intent on stopping it. George, however, stood quickly and caught Ron by the arm, holding him back from disturbing the younger boy. Ron looked back at him, confusion all over his features as he extracted himself from his grip.

“You didn't see what it was like, Ron,” George breathed, looking at him imploringly, “I really think you should just let him rest.” Just then, Harry emitted a little noise somewhere between a gasp and a whimper and they turned to see his fingers twisting in the bedsheets. Ron held a hand out in Harry's direction as he raised his eyebrows at his brother.

“Look at him. He's not _resting_ ,” he said derisively, “He's just suffering! Believe me, you weren't there when we were finding those bloody Horcruxes… He tried to hide it, but me and Hermione noticed, we're not thick. One of us was always awake, and we would hear him nearly _every_ night with visions of You – Know – Who or someone being attacked or something!” He hadn't noticed his tone steadily rising until George glanced away at his last words. He let out a tiny breath and paused a moment before continuing in a much gentler voice.

“They're not just run of the mill nightmares, George,” He said softly, shifting on his feet, “And now… Who knows what the hell goes on in his head, but I know for certain they're still hell for him.” George seemed to understand this on another level entirely as he nodded knowingly.

“Okay,” he whispered, giving a small nod to Ron who looked grateful as he turned to see Harry beginning to toss and turn, tiny beads of sweat sprouting on his forehead. Ron cursed lightly under his breath and he hurried over to his bedside, intent on waking him before the dream got any worse. He called his name softly, knowing he couldn't startle him awake or it would only make his distress worse. When Harry didn't respond, Ron tried saying his name a bit louder but to no avail. He felt worry creep in his mind until he heard George's quiet noise of realization before he came in front of Ron.

“Silencing charm,” he muttered as he extracted his wand to undo the spell, “He still can't hear us…” Ron felt a bit of relief once he knew that Harry wasn't in too deep to hear him. Once George had taken the spell down and backed away Ron cautiously approached the dreaming boy, knowing he could sometimes get violent when waking abruptly.

“Harry. Harry, wake up,” he called softly, leaning towards him slightly, hoping it wasn't a particularly bad dream. He squirmed a bit, but still didn't rouse so Ron sighed and reached out a hand to gently shake him. He hated doing it because he knew how much it startled Harry to wake with someone's hand on him, most likely a remnant instinct from living at the Dursleys'.

“Harry,” Ron repeated as he carefully shook his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't lash out upon awakening. It seemed that luck was on his side in that regard, for Harry merely flinched away with a sharp gasp and looked around blearily.

“It's alright,” Ron spoke quietly, glancing back at George who was hanging further back with a worried expression. Harry looked shaken and dazed as he looked up at him slightly unseeingly.

“W…where –” Harry tried speaking, his voice hoarse and shaky, and paused to swallow before attempting it again, “Where's Remus?!” Both Ron and George inhaled sharply and the silence that followed could have been cut with a knife. Ron felt his heart sink as looked back at George with what he was sure was a shocked and horrified expression. They shared a moment's look, full of fear and emotion before Ron turned back to look at Harry again, as if to confirm that he had really just spoken aloud what they thought they heard.

“Harry…” Ron began defeatedly, shaking his head at his friend, “Remus is… _gone_.” Harry blinked slowly as he appeared to process the meaning of Ron's speech.

“W-where'd he go?” Harry muttered weakly, rubbing at his eyes, “Is – is he coming back?” Ron looked at Harry helplessly, having no idea how to respond to Harry's apparent amnesia. He was rendered utterly speechless at the moment and looked back at George for desperately needed aid. He quickly came forward and approached the bedside before speaking cautiously.

“Harry… d'you _really_ not remember?” he inquired with incredulity; eyebrows furrowed worriedly. Harry released a breath in a huff as he squinted and looked around the room confusedly.

“I – what did he say?” Harry asked, voice slightly higher than usual, concern and confusion evident in his tone. He still seemed unable to get his limbs to function properly for he had made no attempt to get out of bed and was merely peering at them with a slightly vacant look. Ron turned away, unable to face Harry, covering his face with his hands in disbelief.

“ _Oh, Merlin_ …” he sighed sadly, unable to believe this was actually happening. He could practically feel the similar emotions emanating from George as well, for he was standing there speechless as he stared at Harry brokenheartedly. Ron turned back around, his hands now twisting anxiously for he was dreading having to tell Harry this all over again. He could feel his heart rate beginning to pick up as he took in a breath to break the news to his friend, but Harry spoke before he could say a word.

“Please, Ron,” He spoke, desperation in his bleary voice, his hand shooting out to grasp at Ron's sleeve, “I – I need to tell him…I need to say…oh, but…I'm – tired” But it seemed that speech was getting more and more elusive to Harry with each passing second, for it looked like he was slowly being pulled back down into unconsciousness. Ron felt his heart sink even further, not knowing what to do about this. Harry looked as if he were about to attempt speaking once more, but it appeared that George had had enough of this torture and was intent on telling Harry himself.

“No, Harry…” George began, barely keeping his voice from trembling as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and averting his gaze sadly, “Remus…he -” George struggled for words as he met Harry's expectant gaze. In the pause that George took, Harry's grasp on Ron's sleeve tightened and he pulled Ron down closer to him.

“I…I need to tell him I’m sorry,” he whispered pleadingly, and Ron felt as if Harry were breaking his heart all over again and the healing that it had done was now dashed away. He heard George taking in breath to tell him the truth of the matter, but Ron heard himself speaking softly as if from another body.

“Yeah, mate, _'course_ you can tell him. Just – just go to back to sleep for now, alright?” Ron said gently, nodding at him before he realized what he was promising Harry. He could feel George gape at him disbelievingly as his best friend nodded heavily and let his head drop back on to the pillow where he was unconscious once more within mere seconds. Ron knew that George was whispering fiercely in his ear but all he could hear was a loud, encompassing rushing as he stumbled away from Harry's bedside. His back hit the farthest wall and he felt himself sink down against it. Somewhere in the back of his clouded mind, he registered the quiet mutterings of silencing charms being put back up, but he didn't want to pay any attention to it at the moment. His head was spinning and he couldn't seem to get it to stop.

George came and sat on the floor next to him, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He thought perhaps George was speaking to him, but he still couldn't make it out. Ron's throat was beginning to feel very dry and he couldn't seem to get his vision to focus.

“You alright?” George's voice became clear, and it wasn't until he looked up at his brother that he realized he had begun to tremble faintly. He swallowed a few times until he felt that he would be able to speak properly once more.

“It's just that…what if he thinks that _everyone_ is still okay?” Ron said in a low rasp, clearly shaken from witnessing Harry in the state he had been. He felt George shuffle into a more comfortable position, letting his head fall back to rest against the wall as he let out a breath.

“What do you think he'll do?” George asked quietly, despite the charms preventing Harry from being able to hear them, “If he does, and we tell him?” He fixed his gaze upon Ron and saw the lost look in his eyes.

“I dunno…” he said truthfully, “I – I don't want to tell him about everyone again. I can't.” His words hung heavily in the air and George was silent for so long that Ron had to look up to see if he had fallen asleep. When they met gazes, George drew in a deep breath, heaved himself up to his feet, and held out a hand to help Ron do the same. When he gave him a questioning look, George merely nodded at the door and began to usher him toward it.

“Come on,” he spoke, his hands on Ron's shoulders as he led him, “We should let him sleep. And probably explain to Mum and Dad.” At these words, Ron's shoulders slumped, and he turned on his heel to look George in the face.

“You really think Harry would like it if we told them?” he asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowed at his brother as if he were wondering how thick he really was. George looked back at him in much the same way as he let out a small scoff.

“ _You_ really think they'll let us continue on our merry way without filling them in?!” he threw back with just as much incredulity. Ron made a noise of frustrated defeat, knowing he was right and there was no way around it.

“Fine…” He began to turn back around to start making their way downstairs once more, then quickly added, “but I get Dad.” This earned him a small shove, threatening to throw him over the side and grant a much faster trip downstairs.

“Oh, no you don't!” George said, his eyes narrowed, “We're telling both of them together.” Ron gave a noise of disappointment as he glanced back at George begrudgingly. They became silent as they continued their trek downstairs, both of them growing more and more nervous about the conversation they were about to have. When they reached the end of the stairs, Ron entertained the split-second thought of turning and bowling over George to make for his room but quickly dismissed it. He had faced a great deal of things more difficult than talking to his parents. He could survive.

When they made their way over to the living room and they heard their parents' worried whispering, however, he suddenly felt as if this were the most difficult thing he's ever had to do. He whipped around to look at George pleadingly, who merely shook his head silently and pointed in the direction of their mum and dad. Ron lead the way defeatedly, hoping they wouldn't tear them apart without questions.

“Oh!” Mrs. Weasley said the moment she saw them, but then quickly attempted to look as if she wasn't bursting to know about the breakfast incident. Ron and George took their seats on a sofa across from where their parents seemed to have been having a discussion.

“Has – Has Harry come back? Is he alright?” their mother quickly inquired, apparently unable to hold herself back any longer. George seemed to sense Ron's utter nervousness at the moment, so he steeled himself to answer.

“Er…well I went after him earlier and he seemed to be having some sort of, I dunno, panic fit.” he spoke quietly, not wanting it to become common knowledge. They could see the worry bloom in their mother's eyes and George hurried to continue.

“Mum, please don't ask him about it or anything alright? You know, Harry… He's not gonna be thrilled about it and it would just make him feel embarrassed if anyone asked.” he said pleadingly. At this, Mr. Weasley looked a bit affronted as well as concerned.

“Well, why would he be panicking? Does he feel like he's unsafe here?” he asked, glancing between the both of them as he waited for an answer. Both boys were silent, neither knowing the exact cause for Harry's panic but not wanting to leave that up in the air.

“Er…he's just got a lot on his mind with the nightmares and all,” Ron finally spoke up, throwing out what he believed would be true. “He…he's sleeping right now and – and he...” He trailed off and George looked at him searchingly, thinking he was going to reveal Harry's sudden bout of amnesia about who made it out of the Battle. Ron looked down at the rug and his gaze unfocused a bit as he took in a slow, deep breath. He met the gazes of his parents once more with a different look in his eye, a sort of stiff resolve.

“He needs us to be there for him,” he spoke firmly, glancing at George for a moment, both knowing that the mention of Remus was to be kept quiet for now.

“Then that's exactly where we'll be,” Mr. Weasley said in a resolute tone, nodding at his sons. Ron nodded back, feeling a rush of gratitude that his parents were always there in matters of importance.

**Author's Note:**

> The people Harry was hearing in his head were George, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Mr. Weasley in case anyone was wondering.  
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
